


Five Times Tony Stark Heard Edwin Jarvis Swear

by SharkbaitHooHaHa



Series: Edwin Jarvis: Soldier, Butler, Agent, ...Nanny? [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Bittersweet, Characterization of Jarvis based entirely off Agent Carter, Familial Relationships, Family, Father Figure Jarvis, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt/Comfort, Neglect, Slight Canon Divergence, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 08:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3440906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkbaitHooHaHa/pseuds/SharkbaitHooHaHa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark may have had a shitty father, but at least he had Edwin Jarvis, too.</p><p>Snapshots into Tony's life, when Jarvis was there when he needed him most. </p><p>A Jarvis raising Tony fic. Archive warnings for later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Time

The first time Tony Stark heard Edwin Jarvis swear was when he was eleven years old.

It was the night of the school science fair, and there was a low murmur in the gymnasium, as the other children talked excitedly among themselves, waiting for the doors to open and for the parents to come pouring in. Tony stood next to his table, a sheet covering his project from prying eyes, as he bounced excitedly from one foot to the other, eyes fixed to the entryway.

Finally, at six o'clock on the dot, one of the teachers opened the large double doors, and a crowd of parents, grandparents, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins and other odd family members came streaming in. Tony stood on his tiptoes, his eyes searching the faces until he found one that was familiar.

“Jarvis!” he shouted, waving his arms back and forth in the air. “Jarvis, over here!”

The butler's eyes found him, and he smiled, making his way over to Tony, with his wife, Anna, on his arm.

“Where's Dad?” Tony asked, as soon as they were within hearing distance. Tony's mother was out of town, but Howard Stark had promised he'd be there.

Jarvis' smile faltered. “He's, ah... He'll be coming later.” At the disappointed look on Tony's face, he knelt down and placed a hand Tony's his shoulder. “Hey,” he said, giving Tony a small smile. “He assured me that he'd be here. Okay?”

Tony nodded. “Okay.” He gave Jarvis a little smile in return. “Thank you for coming, Jarvis.” Jarvis was always there for Tony. It was Jarvis who made Tony's lunches, picked him up from school, and tucked him into bed at night. And when his parents wer too busy or out of town, which was more often than not, it was Jarvis who spent time with him, telling him stories, making him laugh, and putting a kiss and a bandage on his knee when he fell and scraped it. When he was younger, Tony had once asked Jarvis why he didn't have any kids of his own, but Jarvis had gotten a sad look in his eye and changed the subject, so Tony never brought it up again.

Jarvis stood up. “Wouldn't miss it for the world.” He put his arm around Anna. “Tony, I'm sure you remember my wife?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “You only never stop talking about her.”

Jarvis broke out in a grin and Anna laughed. She leaned down and gave Tony a quick peck on the cheek. “It's wonderful to see you again, Tony,” she said. “You've gotten so big!” Her eyes landed on Tony's project, still covered with a sheet, behind him. “And what have we got here?”

Tony smiled proudly. “It's my invention!” he declared. “But I want to wait to reveal it until my dad gets here.”

An hour later, with no sign of Howard Stark, the science fair judges appeared in front of Tony's table.

Tony looked up at Jarvis. Jarvis placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a small nod. “Go on,” he whispered.

Tony pulled the sheet from his project, and the crowd that had curiously gathered around to see gasped in amazement. It was a robotic arm, simple in its design, but by far the most complex project on display. Tony flipped a switch on the side of the arm's base and turned towards the crowd.

“This is Dum-E,” Tony said. “Dum-E, say hello.” The arm whirred to life, straightened up, and waved, much to the delight of both the judges and onlookers alike. Tony briefly explained how the arm worked as the judges jotted down notes. When he finished, they gave the arm one more look-over and then moved on to the next project.

Throughout the rest of the night, many other people came over to see Tony's project. Most of them were impressed, though he heard a few parents whispering to each other that Howard must have helped him build it.

They were wrong, of course. Howard never let Tony get within ten feet of his lab. He had told him time and time again that it was not a place for children. Instead, it had been Jarvis who sat by Tony's side, happily playing Igor to Tony's Dr. Frankenstein as he built his creation using materials he salvaged from Howard's scrapped inventions which he had found in the garbage. It had been Jarvis who flicked the light switch up and down theatrically, yelling 'Master! It's ALIIIIVE' (complete with a bad accent) the first time Tony had powered his invention on. And it was Jarvis who helped Tony pack it into the little red wagon he had carted it to school in when the fair was over.

“Do you think Dad would have liked it?” Tony asked, as Jarvis folded up the sheet that had originally covered Tony's project.

Jarvis paused and looked at Tony, a look in his eyes that Tony couldn't quite place. He smiled sadly. “Yes, Tony, I think he would have been very impressed.”

The science fair had long since ended and Tony, Jarvis, and Anna were the last ones there. Tony had insisted on staying as long as possible, holding on to the hope that any minute his father would come rushing through the doors. But it never happened.

“I'm sorry, Tony,” Anna said, running a hand through his hair as the three of them walked to the car, Jarvis towing the wagon behind him. “I'm sure your father just got held up. He's a very busy man.”

Jarvis snorted, an odd sound coming from the usually dignified man. “He's a right bloody arse, is what he is,” he said, angrily, as he fished his keys out of his jacket pocket and unlocked the car.

Tony stared at Jarvis in shock. He was no stranger to swearing; his father cursed loudly and often. But it was never something that he thought Jarvis would do.

“Edwin!” Anna hissed, and Jarvis turned and looked at Tony. He stopped and sighed. He let go of the wagon handle and knelt to be eye level with Tony. It was then that it first occurred to Tony that this simple act of kneeling, which Jarvis performed all the time without even thinking about it, was something that his father had never done, not even once. Whenever Tony talked to Howard, he was always looking up at him.

“I'm sorry, Tony,” Jarvis said, snapping him from his thoughts. “I shouldn't have said that about your father. Especially not in front of you.” Jarvis gave Tony a gentle smile. “Now, let's get you loaded into the car, hmm?”

Tony nodded and Jarvis stood and opened the back seat door for him.

“Tony,” Anna stopped him before he could get in. “How would you like to sit in the front, just tonight?”

Tony's face lit up and he turned to look at Jarvis. “Can I?”

Jarvis pretended to give it a great deal of thought before playfully rolling his eyes. “Oh, alright!” he said, his face breaking into a smile. “But just this once.”

Anna slid into the backseat and Jarvis closed the door before he stepped forward and opened the front passenger door for Tony.

They swung by Jarvis' house on the way home, and Anna and Jarvis let him eat the enormous slice of chocolate cake they had in their fridge, and for a brief moment, Tony Stark forgot about the science fair and his father's constant absence in his life.

 


	2. The Second Time

The second time Tony heard Jarvis swear, he had just turned fifteen.

Tony had broken into his father's liqueur cabinet and drank half a bottle of the most expensive brandy. He had then, in his drunken state, decided that what he desperately needed right now to go to the beach and stargaze. So, he took his father's favorite car and proceeded to crash it into a tree while navigating the long winding driveway leading up to the Stark house.

When he stumbled onto the front porch, blood dripping from a wound in his forehead, his father had been furious. He had stormed out the front door, taken one look at the totaled car and immediately grabbed Tony by the collar of his shirt and dragged him back into the house.

He had screamed at Tony until he was purple in the face. Maria Stark had come downstairs, taken one look at the scene and said 'I need a drink' before disappearing into her private quarters. Howard continued to yell obscenities at his son until Jarvis arrived, some ten minutes later, and pulled Howard into one of the adjacent sitting rooms to talk to him and try to calm him down.

Tony didn't know what Jarvis was doing there, or how he had known to come. Ever since Tony had turned twelve and decided that he was too old to be tucked into bed, Jarvis left the Stark mansion every night around five, as he had before Tony was born. It was now well past midnight.

It was clear from the noises coming out of the other room, that whatever Jarvis was saying to Howard was having no effect. Tony could still Howard's screams plainly through the closed door, interrupted every few minutes by soft, unintelligible mumbling from Jarvis.

“He's behaving like a child! A fucking goddamned child!” Howard cried, bursting through the oak door of the sitting room and back into the foyer where Tony was sitting, holding a damp rag up to his forehead.

Jarvis followed closely behind him, his face hardened in such a rage that Tony had never seen on him before. For a split second, Tony thought Jarvis was angry with him, too, and his heart dropped. He could handle, hell, had even come to expect his father being angry at him, but not Jarvis, who had never even raised his voice to him. But then Jarvis spoke and Tony realized he was defending him. “Need I remind you that he is _fifteen_ ,” he was saying, anger clipping his words. “He _is_ still a child.”

“I don't care!” Howard cried. “His behavior is _completely_ unacceptable.”

“Well, it's not surprising,” Jarvis said evenly. “Considering the example that was set for him.”

Howard took a step closer to Jarvis. “Just what the hell are you implying?” Howard's eyes flicked over to where Tony was sitting. “Don't you fucking look at me like that,” he said, his attention switching to Tony. “I am your father, you will show me respect! Jarvis, pack his things, I want this little shit out of my house by the morning. And call my lawyers! I'm taking him out of my will.”

If Jarvis' face had been angry before, it was now downright furious. “With all due respect, Mr. Stark,” he spat, his words dripping with venom, “go fuck yourself.”

Tony's mouth dropped open in shock and Howard froze. He had never seen his father rendered speechless before, but Howard definitely was now, his mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out.

“What the hell did you say to me?” he asked when he had finally found his voice again.

Jarvis raised both his eyebrows. “Oh, did you not hear me?” he asked calmly. “Perhaps you need to get your hearing checked. Shall I set an appointment?”

Howard took another step closer to Jarvis so that they were nose to nose. “I should have you fired for that,” he whispered dangerously.

Jarvis didn't back down. “You could,” he said, unfazed. “But then who do you suppose would raise your son?”

Howard gave a sharp intake of breath, but said nothing.

The two started each other down for what seemed like an eternity before Jarvis finally spoke again. “Now if you'll excuse me.” Jarvis spun on his heel and made his way towards the stairs. “Come along, Tony,” he called.

Tony got to his feet, swaying slightly from standing up too quickly, and followed after Jarvis, not making eye contact with his father when he passed him.

“Just where the hell do you think you're going?” Howard called after Jarvis.

Jarvis stopped on the stairs and turned to face Howard.“To tend to your son's wound,” he said. “Unless you'd like like to explain to the press why you let your only child bleed to death in front of your coat closet?”

Howard scoffed and threw his hands in the air, storming out of the room.

“I wouldn't really have bled to death,” Tony said, once they were in his room. He sat on his bed while Jarvis sat on a chair directly in front of him, inspecting the gash across Tony's forehead.

“No, of course not,” Jarvis agreed. “My apologies, I'm afraid I got a little over dramatic back there.” He poured some hydrogen peroxide onto a clean towel. “Now, this will sting a bit,” he warned, pressing the cloth to Tony's head.

Tony hissed and tried to pull away, but Jarvis grabbed his chin in his free hand and held him in place. He dabbed at the cut until all the excess blood was cleaned away. “Hmm,” he frowned, now that he could see the wound better.

“How bad is it?” Tony asked.

“It's deeper than I thought. I fear you may need stitches.” Jarvis picked up the advanced first aid kit he had grabbed from the master bathroom on their way to Tony's bedroom and began rummaging around inside it.

Tony groaned. “If I go to the hospital, then everyone's going to find out about this.”

“Good thing you won't have to go to the hospital, then,” Jarvis said simply, pulling a suture kit from the first aid kit and ripping it open to pull out a threaded needle and suture. “This will just be temporary, though. First thing in the morning we'll get a real doctor out to the house to take a look at it. Otherwise you'll get a scar, and we wouldn't want that, now would we?”

Tony looked at him skeptically as he poured peroxide over the needle to be sure it was sterilized. “Since when do you know how to do stitches?”

Jarvis leaned in closer. “I worked in espionage once,” he whispered conspiratorially. “Well, I helped, rather. Per your father's request, of course.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right.” He tilted his head down to give Jarvis a better angle. “Okay, Jarvis, do your worst.”

“Thank you, Tony, your overwhelming confidence is greatly appreciated,” Jarvis said dryly as he began to do the stitches.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, Jarvis focusing on his work, and Tony brooding on the events of the evening. It didn't take long, though, for Tony to break the silence. “I really fucked up, tonight,” he said quietly.

“Watch your language,” Jarvis chided gently, still focused on his work.

“Yeah, well, _you_ just said fuck,” Tony pointed out. “And to my father, no less!”

Jarvis let out an amused huff of air. “Yes, well, I rather think he deserved it. And for the record, I seem to recall your father getting into far worse acts of such juvenile delinquency until he was well into his thirties.” Jarvis finished the suture and tied it off. “Okay, done.” He leaned back to admire his handiwork. “Actually, that's not half bad.”

Tony turned to look in the mirror over his dresser. There was a row of several tiny, evenly spaced stitches just be low his hairline. “Wow,” Tony said, impressed. “That actually is quite good.”

Jarvis pretended to look offended. “Just who do you think has been hemming your clothes all these years?” he asked. “Speaking of which,” he looked down at Tony's ankles, “it appears those pants need to be let out a bit. I'll add it to my list of things to do tomorrow. But for now,” he stood, “we both need to be getting to bed.”

“Jarvis?” Tony asked, as Jarvis was opening the door to his room. He stopped and turned when Tony said his name. “How did you know? About the accident?”

“One of the servants was staying late to finish polishing the silver for the big party this weekend,” Jarvis said. “She called me.”

Tony gave Jarvis a small smile. “Well, thanks for coming.”

Jarvis smiled back. “Anytime.”


	3. The Third Time

The third time Tony heard Jarvis swear was when he was nineteen.

Howard had checked him into rehab, after a night of binge drinking landed him in the hospital with alcohol poisoning. As soon as he was well enough, he was transferred straight to the rehab center. It took a week before they let him have visitors, but as soon as they did, Jarvis was there. 

“Oh, Tony,” Jarvis said when he walked into white room and saw Tony, looking so small and fragile in his bed. “What have you done to yourself?”

Tony gave a derisive laugh. “Guess I'm pretty stupid for a supposed genius, huh?”

Jarvis sighed, fixing Tony with an exasperated look. “That's not what I meant and you know it. You had me worried sick.”

Tony waved him off. “It's okay, I'm fine.”

“No, it's not okay!” Jarvis cried out, his voice rising slightly. “I thought you were going to die! They told me to be prepared for the worst, and I- I just thought-” Jarvis stopped and looked at him helplessly. “I didn't know what I was going to do if I lost you.” 

Tony had never seen Jarvis look so lost before and he looked down at his lap, feeling guilty that he was the cause of it. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled. “I don't need to be here, though,” he said, glaring at his surroundings. “It's not like I'm an addict.”

Jarvis ran a hand down his face. “Tony, you're underage, and yet you still manage to drink almost as often as your father does.”

Tony blinked in surprise. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew!” Jarvis said emphatically. “Who do you think kept throwing out your stash?”

“Honestly, I just thought I drank it and forgot.” Tony frowned. “Okay, maybe I do have a problem.”

“Well, you know what they say, acceptance is the first step to recovery.”

“Why didn't you say anything?”

Jarvis gave a heavy sigh. “I thought that if I did I would push you away. And I wanted you to still be able to come to me when you were ready to accept help.” He looked at Tony in the bed, remorse evident in his eyes. “I now realize that was a mistake. I have failed you. I'm sorry.”

Tony's guilt was back tenfold. “Ah, hell, Jarvis, you didn't-”

Jarvis held up a hand to silence him. “I did. You've always needed some form of discipline in your life, and your father certainly never provided any, so as much as I loathed doing it, it always fell to me. And then when you needed it most, I let you down. I just hope that someday you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

Tony gave Jarvis the most sincere look he could muster. “Already forgiven, buddy.”

Jarvis gave a small laugh and Tony could see that his eyes were wet. “Thank you,” he said, pulling a chair over from the corner of the room and sitting down across from Tony. “Have they been feeding you?” he asked, taking notice of Tony's trembling hands and pale complexion.

“No, yeah, they have,” Tony reassured him. “I just... haven't had much of an appetite.”

“Well, when your appetite returns, tell me,” Jarvis said. “I'll bake that chocolate cake you like so much and bring you some.”

“I don't think you're allowed to do that,” Tony said.

“Then I'll sneak it in,” Jarvis said with a small shrug and a smile.

Tony laughed. “Right. Using your experience from your thrilling career in espionage.”

Jarvis sniffed. “I may just be an old butler, but I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

They continued talking about anything and everything. Tony felt a great sense of ease now that Jarvis was back at his side, and his mind drifted back to a simpler time, when Tony was just a kid, and Jarvis sat next to his bed, telling him bed-time stories and doing funny voices for all the different characters. He was grateful to have this one constant in his life, someone he could always rely on when there was no one else.

While he was in rehab, Maria came to visit Tony only once, staying for less than ten minutes before rushing to a hair appointment or something equally as trivial. Howard never came at all. But Jarvis was there every day of the week without fail, staying for the allowed hour, sometimes longer if he could charm the nurses into letting him.

On the third week, Tony was sitting on the small couch in his room when Jarvis came in with a very visible bulge under his jacket. With a furtive glance around the room, he smiled and pulled out a Tupperware containing two slices of Tony's favorite chocolate cake. Tony couldn't help but grin at how proud Jarvis seemed to be of himself, but Tony knew that the lady at the front desk really liked Jarvis, and had probably let him get away with sneaking in the food.

“Thanks, Jarvis,” Tony said. “You really didn't have to do that.”

“Think nothing of it,” Jarvis said, wheeling an over bed table between them and sitting in the chair Tony had pulled up before Jarvis arrived. He opened the Tupperware and flipped the lid over like a plate. He pulled two forks out of the container and used them to lift one of the slices out and onto the lid before handing one to Tony.

Jarvis picked up the Tupperware and pushed the lid towards Tony and the two ate in comfortable silence. Finally, after Tony had licked the last bits of chocolate from his plate he asked, “So what has Howard told the media about me?”

Jarvis swallowed his last bite of cake and pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket, using it to wipe his face before replying, “He hasn't told them anything. In fact, he's spent a rather large sum of money making sure the press doesn't find out about this at all.”

Tony snorted. “Figures.”

Jarvis tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket and folded his hands in his lap. “He thinks he's doing it to help you.”

“He's doing it to help himself,” Tony said, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, well, I did try to explain to him that a cover-up might not be the way you would wish to handle it, but you know your father.” Jarvis picked up the forks and placed them back into the Tupperware before closing the lid. “He's a stubborn bastard.”

Tony stared at Jarvis thoughtfully. “Why do you work for him, anyway?”

“He helped me, once, when I needed it.”

“Ohhh, well, if he helped you _once_ , then by all means, devote the rest of your life to the guy.”

Jarvis gave him a deadpan look. “Are you going to let me finish?”

Tony nodded, waving his hand in acceptance.

“He helped me, and I owed him a great deal. Initially, I was more than happy to be in his service. He used to be a good man.” Jarvis sighed. “I don't know, maybe he still is, in some ways. But a good man does not necessarily make a good father.”

Tony gave a hollow laugh. “You got that right. Maybe if he put half as much effort into being a dad as he does into his phony humanitarian projects.”

Jarvis looked down at his hands and then back up at Tony. “It is not fair, the way he has treated you. There is no excuse for it. I wish that he could have been the type of father you deserved. One who was there for you, and who appreciated you and your brilliance.”

Tony was silent for a moment. He wanted to say thank you, but was afraid that if he did, he'd start getting emotional. “That still doesn't answer my question,” he said finally. “I've seen Howard's accounts, I know that you make enough money that you could have retired by now. And whatever debt you owed him has surely long since been repaid. Why do you stick by him even after all those years?”

Jarvis looked surprised and stared at Tony. “I don't stick around for Howard,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

And on hindsight, Tony supposed it really should have been.


	4. The Fourth Time

The fourth time Tony heard Jarvis swear, he was twenty-one.

It was the morning of his parents' funeral. Tony put on his best suit and stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He looked unrecognizable to his own eyes. He had bags from not having slept the previous two nights and his face was covered in a layer of stubble. Now, as he stared blankly at himself in the mirror, he looked more like Howard than he ever had before.

He turned on the faucet and leaned over the sink, wetting his face. Grabbing the can of shaving cream, he sprayed some into his hand before slowly rubbing it onto his jaw. He picked up the razor, brought it to his face and then froze, eyes fixed to the mirror. After a few moments he threw the razor into the sink and grabbed the towel, wiping his face off as he stalked out of the bathroom. He threw the towel on his bed, and ripped his bedroom door open.

He didn't know where he was going, he just knew he had to go. It wasn't until he stopped in front of Howard and Maria's bedroom door that he realized where his feet were taking him. He stared numbly at the handle for a few minutes before he reached out and gently turned it.

The room was dark, the heavy curtains drawn across all the windows. Tony stepped in and closed the door behind him. He had never been in here when his parents weren't there before. It felt strange.

Tony slowly walked around the room, taking it in. He stopped when his eyes landed on a framed photograph sitting on top of the bedside table. It was their most recent family photo, taken at Christmastime of last year. He picked it up, staring at it. Howard stood in the center, while Tony was on his left and Maria was on his right. Tony stood behind Howard while Maria stood side by side with him. Howard had his arm over Maria's shoulder while Maria's arm was around Howard's waist. Tony's hands were clasped behind his back. Even in the family portraits, he was separated from them, and he was, as always, standing directly in Howard's shadow.

He could faintly recall that he had been fighting with Howard before the photograph was taken. Over what he couldn't remember, but he knew he had been absolutely livid when they walked into the photo session. You couldn't tell looking at the portrait, though. His own face smiled back at the him like he didn't have a care in the world. Tony shook his head. The Stark family looked happier and healthier in a picture than they had ever been in real life.

Finally, staring at the photograph became too much. With an angry snarl, Tony wound back his arm and flung the frame at the wall. It shattered, sending pieces of glass flying. As Tony stared down at the broken frame, he realized that he suddenly felt better than he had in a long time, so he reached out and grabbed the next closest thing (a lamp) and he threw that across the room, too.

And so he continued, in a mindless frenzy of destruction, as he mourned the loss of his parents that were never there to begin with. He finally stopped after about ten minutes, his arm raised to throw a bottle of whiskey that had been sitting on Howard's dresser. He stared at the bottle in his hand and then lowered it, setting it back down on the dresser with a loud thunk. There was a glass sitting in the back of the dresser and he grabbed it and dragged it towards him, filling it half full with the liqueur. He picked it and sat down on the edge of the bed.

And that was how Jarvis found him half an hour later, staring into the still half filled glass. Jarvis looked around the trashed room, but made no comment. He made his way over to the bed, stepping over an antique grandfather clock which Tony had shoved to the floor and stopped in front of him. He gazed down at the whiskey in Tony's hand, and Tony expected him to get angry, but he merely took the glass from him, dumped it into a potted fern next to the dresser, and set the glass down.

“That's bad for the plant,” Tony mumbled.

“Oh, I don't think it will mind,” Jarvis replied calmly. “It's plastic.”

“Even worse,” Tony said. “It's going to smell.”

“Hmm, you may have a point there, Mr Stark,” Jarvis agreed. “I'll be sure to get it replaced right away. We wouldn't want a smelly fern detracting from the décor of the room.”

Tony gave a single harsh laugh, but said nothing.

Jarvis sat down next to Tony. “I've just gotten off the phone with Mr. Stane,” he said. “Everything is in order for him to run Stark Industries until you're ready.”

“Thanks.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, Jarvis staring out the window that Tony had tore the drapes off of.

“It's okay, you don't have to be here,” Tony said after a while. “I'm fine.”

Jarvis looked over at Tony. “Bullshit,” he said softly.

“It's just-” Tony choked on his words. He sighed in frustration, putting his head in his hands, before continuing, “how can I go out there and talk about Howard as if I didn't hate him? They want me to say all these nice things about him, but I don't even know if I have anything nice to say! I can't tell lies about him and say he was a great man when I know he wasn't. Hell, a part of me thinks I should just tell them all what he was really like. And my mom...” he trailed off, shrugging helplessly. “I mean, I loved her, but she was never really there, always off on some extravagant getaway, or drinking alone behind a closed door. For as much as I hated Howard, at least it was clear what kind of man he was. What am I supposed to tell them about a woman I barely even knew?”  
  
“Now, Mr. Stark-” Jarvis began, but Tony cut him off.

“Why do you keep calling me that? You've never called me Mr. Stark before.”

“That's what people are going to be calling you, now,” Jarvis said gently. “I had hoped that hearing the title from someone close to you might help smooth the transition. I can stop, if you'd like.”

The thought of people calling him by his father's last name made him sick to his stomach. But, he supposed that if Jarvis was doing it, too, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. “No, it's fine,” he said. He remembered back to when he was six, and had first decided that he wanted to go by Tony. Jarvis had immediately switched over to the nickname, saying it as easily as if he had been calling him by it the whole time. His parents, however, took weeks before they were using it consistently, and even then, they would often slip up, calling him Anthony instead.

Jarvis nodded. “As for the speech, if you tell people the truth, I fear it will eventually come back to bite you. The press loves a scandal, and dragging a dead man's name through the mud is no fun. As soon as they've exhausted the story, they'll turn their attention to you.”

“They'll want to know if I'm as bad as my father was,” Tony said understanding. “They'll start digging to find any dirt they can on me.”

“Right. And if they don't find anything-”

“Which they will,” Tony interrupted.

“But if they don't than they'll take the smallest thing they can find and blow it out of proportion.”

“So either way, I'm fucked.”

“Unfortunately, it would appear that way,” Jarvis said.

“So I have to lie, then.” Tony sighed and rubbed his face in his hands.

“Not necessarily.” Jarvis shook his head. “They already think that your father was a great man. So, just repeat back to them the things they already know.”

Tony's heart lifted just a little. “I think I can do that.”

“And as for your mother, well...” Jarvis looked thoughtful. “She was a distant woman. To be honest, I didn't really know her all that well myself. But she always supported your father, even in his most insane endeavors. You can tell them that.”

“She loved him?” Tony asked.

“She did,” Jarvis confirmed. “And she loved you, too.”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “I know.” Maria Stark was an erratic woman, always coming and going, never staying still for very long. Tony had never doubted his mother loved him, but he had realized from a very young age that the responsibilities and difficulties of motherhood were beyond her.

“And you know, no matter what happens out there, no matter what you decide to say, I'll be right there with you the whole time,” Jarvis said, putting an arm around Tony's shoulder.

“Thanks, man,” Tony said. He looked down at his lap and played with his hands. “You wanna know what's really fucked up about this whole thing?” He gave a rueful chuckle. “I actually miss him.”

Jarvis tilted his head down to catch Tony's eye. “Of course you do. For better or worse, he _was_ your father.”

“But we never got along. I hated him. I _thought_ I did, at least. I shouldn't be feeling like this!”

Jarvis sighed thoughtfully and stared out the window. “I've found that there is no right or wrong way to feel in situations like these.” He turned back to Tony. “For what it's worth, I miss him too.”

Tony looked down at the ground and smiled. “How do you always know just what to say, Jarvis?”

“It's what I'm here for,” Jarvis said, smiling back. “And remember, I'm always in your corner, Tony.”

“I thought it was Mr. Stark, now?” Tony said teasingly.

Jarvis looked humble. “Perhaps you can indulge an old man, and allow me to call you Tony for one last day?”

“Well, alright,” Tony agreed. “I mean, if it will make you feel better, I guess I could allow it, just this once.”

“Oh, you are too kind,” Jarvis said rolling his eyes in amusement. “Really, you humble me with your generosity.”

The service was beautiful. Only the best for the Starks. When it came time for Tony's speech he got up and talked about Howard's humanitarian efforts, about how he built his business up from scratch, and about his breakthroughs in science and engineering. When he got to his mother, he faltered, and Jarvis stepped closer and clamped a reassuring hand to his shoulder. Tony glanced over to see Jarvis giving him an encouraging smile and he continued, glad that Jarvis had his back.


	5. The Fifth Time

The fifth time Tony heard Jarvis swear was just four and a half months later.

When the call came during his morning breakfast, Tony remembered staring at his phone in shock, even long after the person on the other end had hung up. His body felt numb and a buzzing sound reverberated through his ears as what he had heard slowly began to sink in. He got shakily to his feet, his mind in a blank panic, unsure of what to do next.

“Car...” he mumbled to himself. “I need... car...”

And then reality came rushing back with a jolt. Suddenly every noise was too loud, every sight too vibrant, as if all of his senses were over stimulated. He felt strangely out of place in his own body, like a circuit had been broken between the wiring in his limbs and the wiring in his brain. His heartbeat thrummed in his ears and his breath came in sharp painful gasps. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered if he were dying, though his mind was buzzing with too many thoughts to devote the brainpower to figuring out why.

So instead, he desperately tried to force the panic down, but that just seemed to make it worse. He paced the room back and forth, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to will his breathing to slow and his heart to stop beating so hard, but it was having no effect.

With a strangled cry of frustration, he slammed his hands down hard on the table. A shooting pain went up his left arm and he opened his eyes to find that he had smashed his plate, cutting his hand in the process.

Hearing the commotion, one of the servants entered the dining room, stopping in her tracks when she saw the broken plate and Tony's blood mixing with egg yolks.

“Mr. Stark, are you alright?” she asked, her brows furrowing in concern. “What happened?”

Tony ignored her question. “Can you tell Freeman to get the car ready?” he asked, forcing his voice to remain level, though the trembling in his hands betrayed him.

“Freeman's on vacation today,” the young woman told him with a frown.

“Then tell whoever's covering for him that I'll be needing the car,” Tony said, irritation seeping into his tone.

“But, sir, your hand!” She began to step forward, reaching out as if to grab his wrist.

Tony snapped. “The car! Now!” he yelled.

The servant stopped and stared at him in shock. Finally she tilted her head down, staring at the floor. “Yes, sir,” she mumbled, before turning and fleeing the room.

Tony grabbed a cloth napkin from the table and wrapped it around his cut as he made his way to the front door. When he put pressure on the wound, he found that, aside from stopping the bleeding, it also had the added benefit of providing his mind with a little clarity. Keeping the napkin wrapped tightly, he used his good hand and his teeth to tie a knot, making sure it was nice and secure.

He stepped outside to find the car waiting for him. The young woman must have conveyed his urgency to the driver, who left the car running and made no move to get out and open the door for Tony.

Tony told the driver where to go as he slid into the backseat. As the car began to move, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat, willing the car to go faster while simultaneously hoping it never reached its destination at all. Nausea built in the pit of his stomach, and he felt like he might either throw up or pass out, so he focused on taking deep, long breaths, letting little else enter his mind.

“Sir?” the driver called out.

Breathe in, focus on the way the air filled his lungs, on the rise of his chest, the expansion of his rib cage.

“Sir?” the driver tried again.

Breathe out, let the air flow, and with it imagine all the anxiety and tension leaving his body.

“...Sir?”

Tony scowled and snapped his eyes open. “What?!” he growled.

“We're here,” the driver said, seemingly unfazed by his mood.

Tony looked out the window at the building before him and blinked. He hadn't even noticed the car pulling to a stop. He reached out to grab the door handle and froze. His heart thrummed in his ears and he felt sweat running down his cheek. After a brief consideration he leaned back against the seat.

Tony suddenly found his mouth was dry. “Circle the block,” he ordered, his voice hoarse.

“Sir?” came the driver's puzzled response.

“Just do it!” He closed his eyes and brought a hand up to the bridge of his nose, trying to force himself to calm down.

All too soon, they were back where they started. Tony stared out the window for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he opened the door and slowly stepped out. He forced himself to take first one step forward, then another. As he built up momentum, he found that the panic he had so desperately tried to keep at bay had begun to resurface, and he was all but running by the time he made it through the large glass doors of the hospital.

“Which way are your patient rooms?” he shouted towards the first employee he saw, not even bothering to slow down. The orderly merely pointed in response and Tony continued on in that direction.

“Sir?” the nurse at the reception desk called as he strode briskly past. “Sir, you can't just come in here, you need a visitors pass.” She got up and chased after him when he showed no signs of slowing down. “ _Sir_!”

In the back of Tony's mind, it occurred to him that he had never asked which room number he was supposed to be looking for, but he was in too much of a frenzy to stop now. He looked through the windows on the doors, but none of the faces were familiar. One room had the bed curtains drawn partially closed, blocking the occupant's face. Tony wrenched the door open and pulled the curtain aside, startling the poor middle aged woman reclining in the bed.

Without a word, Tony spun back around and and rushed back into the hallway, where he nearly collided with the nurse.

“Hey!” she cried disapprovingly, peering into the room Tony had just exited. With an angry sigh at Tony's retreating back, she went to go comfort the patient he had just disturbed.

Two doors down, he found the room he was looking for. At the sight of Jarvis laying in the bed, Tony felt himself go numb, all the fervor from moments before vanishing completely. He slowly walked forward and gently opened the door, not wanting to startle the older man.

As he walked in, Jarvis looked up and smiled warmly at him. It was quickly replaced by a frown, however, as he took in Tony's full appearance.

“What on earth happened to your hand?” he asked, concern all over his face.

“My-” Tony stopped dead in his tracks and stared at Jarvis incredulously. “My hand?!”

The nurse who had been tailing him appeared out of breath in the doorway. “Sir, please, you have to sign in at the front desk!”

“Nurse, it's alright,” Jarvis said. “Could you please give us a moment?”

The nurse looked from Jarvis back to Tony, and she must have recognized his face because she nodded and said, “I'll sign you in, Mr. Stark,” before turning away and closing the door behind her.

“I can fix this,” Tony said. “I can make this okay, I can fix this.”

“Mr. Stark,” Jarvis said, holding up a hand to stop him, but Tony barely heard him.

He started pacing the room. “I'll have Obadiah put our smartest guys on it, they'll figure something out.” He was probably talking fast to be understood, he knew, but he didn't stop. “I-I-I'll make some calls, we'll fly in the best doctors from around the world and have them put their heads together.”

“Mr. Stark,” Jarvis said again, a little louder.

“Or-or-or I could invent something.” Tony ran his hands through his hair frantically. “I could- I could look through my dad's notes about the super serum, s-see-see if I can figure out the healing factor. Or maybe-”

“Tony!”

Upon hearing his first name, Tony finally stopped. He turned to face Jarvis and took in just how frail he looked, hooked up to all those machines, nasal tubing pumping oxygen straight into his airways. Jarvis had always seemed like a statue to Tony, unyielding, unwavering and unbreakable. The one stable part of Tony's otherwise hectic world.

“It's okay, Tony,” Jarvis said gently. “I've already made my peace with it.”

Tony floundered, a flurry of emotions swirling around his head. “Well, I haven't!” He sat down heavily in the chair next to the bed. “Jarvis...” He lifted his hands helplessly and let them fall back into his lap, not knowing what to say.

Jarvis looked at him sadly. “I'm sorry that this couldn't have happened at a more convenient time, what with you-”

“'At a more convenient time?'” Tony interrupted incredulously, running a hand along the side of his face. “Jesus, Jarvis, you just had a heart attack, and you're worried about the timing?”

Jarvis pressed on. “With you about to take over your father's company in two days time.”

“God, I can push that back-” Tony started.

“You will not!” Jarvis insisted sternly.

“But, Jarvis!”

“Tony, if you push it back now, then you're going to keep pushing it back. You'll keep finding reasons why it isn't a good time-”

“No, I won't!”

“Yes, you will!” Jarvis said definitively and Tony shut his mouth, knowing Jarvis was right.

Jarvis tilted his head slightly to the side and gave him a reassuring smile. “You can do this, Tony.”

Tony looked at the ground. “But everybody thinks I'm going to fail. I mean, they won't say it to my face, but I can see it in the way they look at me. They don't think I'm ready. And maybe they're right.”

“Tony, look at me,” Jarvis said gently.

Tony brought his eyes up to meet Jarvis's gaze and found the older man looking at him fondly.

“To hell with those people,” Jarvis said. “You are going to do amazing things. And if you ever feel doubt, listen to your heart. It will help you to make the right choices.”

Tony smiled ruefully. “Assuming I have a heart.”

Jarvis smiled knowingly. “You hide it well, but you have one of the biggest hearts of anyone I've ever met. You'll do fine.”

Tony gave a hollow laugh. “At least one of us thinks so.”

Jarvis picked up a thin white envelope from the small table next to his bed. On the front it read 'Tony' in a wobbly, unsteady imitation of Jarvis's usually clean and crisp handwriting. “I wrote something for you,” he said, holding it out to Tony. “But please don't read it until you're officially CEO of Stark Industries.”

Tony looked down at the letter, but made no move to take it. The offering held such finality to it that he found he couldn't bear the thought of accepting it. “I don't want it,” he whispered.

Jarvis looked at him pleadingly. “Tony, please.”

Tony cleared his throat and looked stubbornly to the side. “I don't like being handed things.”

Jarvis raised an eyebrow as if to say _since when?_

_Since just now_ , Tony thought. _Please, please don't make me take that letter. Not yet._

“Alright,” Jarvis said, clearly sensing that Tony was not ready. “I suppose every genius is entitled to their quirks.” He chuckled in amusement and set the letter back down on the table. “I'll just leave it here for now.”

Tears stung at Tony's eyes, but he refused to let them fall. “You can't just leave me like this,” he said, turning back to look at Jarvis.

Jarvis smiled at him sadly. “If I had any choice in the matter, I never would.”

Tony stayed with Jarvis until the end, reminiscing with him about happier times for as long as Jarvis had the energy, and then just talking to him about anything that popped into his mind after he didn't. When Jarvis's breaths became slower and it became clear that his time was almost up, he held his hand in silence, simply offering a comforting presence.

After the nurses had unplugged all the machines and ushered him out of the room, he sat alone in the lobby until long after it was dark outside.

After several hours, a nurse approached him, holding out the letter from earlier. “Mr. Stark, I think this is for you.”

Tony stared blankly at the letter. “Thanks,” he mumbled, making no move to take it.

After a moment, the nurse awkwardly set it on the empty chair next to him and quickly walked away, leaving Tony alone to his grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long. In my mind, this is the most important chapter and I couldn't seem to work my head around how it should go, but I think I finally have something I am happy with.


	6. Epilogue

True to Jarvis' wishes, Tony took over Stark Industries two days later, as scheduled. Obadiah had done all the planning for the event, wanting the hand-off to seem as gracious as possible in the eyes of the press. It was a classy affair, far too stifling for Tony's tastes, even if he hadn't been in mourning.

Tony tuned out as Obadiah and a slew of his father's old business partners gave speeches, lying through their teeth about how excited they were to see Howard Stark's son take the helm of the company. Instead, he agonized over flower arrangements. The brochure he had picked up that morning was already well worn and coming apart at the folds. While Tony knew that Jarvis would have scoffed at the more lavish arrangements, he couldn't help but feel that settling for anything less would somehow be an insult to the man and the place he had in Tony's life.

When the speeches were finished, Obadiah called Tony to the stage to say a few words commemorating his new role as CEO. Tony didn't remember exactly what he said, but he knew that it couldn't have been more than two sentences.

Conversely, after the party ended Tony stayed awake until the early the next morning, writing a ten page speech for Jarvis' funeral.

However, when he took the podium the next afternoon, Tony found the words stuck in his throat. Suddenly, everything he had written didn't seem adequate to describe the impact that Jarvis had had on Tony's life. Mumbling a quick apology he stumbled off the stage and hurried out through the church doors.

It wasn't until later that night that he had the courage to make his way to cemetery. It was a path he had taken many times with Jarvis over the past few years, as he often accompanied the older man whenever he visited Anna's grave. Now, the plot next to hers was filled wish freshly turned dirt, and a pristine headstone glistened beside the weathered and worn one.

Tony had worried at the flowers he had meant to place on the grave until most of the petals had fallen off, so he instead placed a simple frame containing a faded photograph and the base of the grave marker. It was a picture of Jarvis, Anna and Tony, taken the night of the science fair so many years ago. Tony had found it in Jarvis' wallet, after he claimed his belongings from the hospital. Tony didn't even remember the picture being taken and he had had no idea that Jarvis had carried it around with him all these years.

Tony shifted from foot to foot, not sure of what to do next. He knew that whenever Jarvis visited Anna, he talked to her, giving her updates on his life and Tony, but Tony couldn't bring himself to do that. He had always been highly doubtful that any sort of afterlife actually existed, and even if it did, he simply didn't know what to say.

Over the next several months, Tony fell into a sort of a routine, working long hours during the day and then partying late into the night. It left him too exhausted or drunk to dwell on emotions and thoughts that he'd rather not face and though his dedication to his work had given Stark Industries a new spark of life, his after hours antics were beginning to earn him a certain reputation. Every week there was a new photo of Tony in the tabloids, always accompanied by some outrageous headline. But he preferred that they wrote things like 'self-absorbed' and 'god complex' rather than 'emotionally stunted' and 'daddy issues.'

It wasn't until Tony was going through the drawers in his desk, searching for a missing blueprint, that he found the letter that Jarvis had written him. He hadn't yet opened it, as if he could somehow pretend Jarvis was still alive so long as he refused to read his final words. But when he saw the envelope lying at the very bottom of the drawer, Jarvis' scrawl staring him in the face, he found himself reaching towards it.

Tony sank heavily into his desk chair gingerly turning the envelope over in his hands. Then, quickly, before he could change his mind he tore open the seal. He found himself holding his breath as he pulled out the single sheet of paper and unfolded it.

_Tony,_

_First off, I would like to offer you my congratulations on becoming CEO of Stark Industries. I'm only sorry that I couldn't be there to lend my support. But I know that you will lead the company to new heights and truly make it your own. In a few years time, Stark Industries will come to be synonymous with your name, instead of your father's._

_Over the years I have had the pleasure of watching you grow up, and I have to say, I couldn't be more proud of the man you have become. It was my honor to be by your side as you began your journey to greatness. Though my journey has come to an end, yours has only just begun. Take care on your way, and know that you are not walking it alone, for I will always be with you._

_Always your friend,_

_Edwin Jarvis_

Tony set the paper down with shaking hands, his vision blurring as tears began to pour from his eyes.

The next day, Tony had one of his assistants clear all of his appointments. He shut himself in his lab and refused to take any calls. For the next month, he worked continuously, stopping only to eat and sleep.

His first attempt to turn on his new project resulted in a power outage and him cursing as he stumbled around in the dark trying to find a flashlight.

The next three weeks he slept in his chair, and ate only when someone left him food by the door.

His second attempt caused a system crash, and forced him to spend an entire day restoring all his files.

The next five days saw Tony only sleeping when he absolutely had to, and refusing to eat at all.

But finally, Tony was ready to give his invention a third shot.

At first, Tony worried that something was going to go wrong again, that maybe this was a task that was doomed to never succeed. But then a familiar, soft English tone filled the room and suddenly Tony found himself feeling at ease again.

“ _Good morning, Mr. Stark. How are you today?”_

Tony smiled. “Hey, JARVIS. Man, it's good to hear your voice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking of doing a series of one-shots about Tony's childhood with Jarvis. Would anyone be interested in reading them if I did?


End file.
